Page 57 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Scarlet

I wake up with a start, blinking through the haze to bring the room into focus.

But even with the faint moonlight streaming through the tall stained-glass window, I can’t see much because it’s still the middle of the night.

I turn and reach next to me through the darkness, but all I feel is the barely warm, soft sheet.

The moody chords of a violin filter through, caressing my senses, calling to me.

I answer, throwing the sheet off of my body and climbing out of bed. Barefoot on the ancient stone floor, I walk out of the bedroom, toward the haunting melody.

It can’t be Carter.

It’s too slow. Too sad. Too . . . emotional.

But as I walk into the church’s main nave, I find him lying back on the sofa, eyes closed as he holds the instrument under his jaw. He strokes the strings like he caresses each and every one, a delicate, tragic song spilling off of them like tears.

It’s been a few weeks since we were both given a clean bill of health and released from the hospital.

He woke up a couple of days before me, and Morrigan confessed he threatened every single nurse and doctor in that place, explaining in vivid detail everything he would do to them if I’m not well and whole.

And he was still strapped to IVs at that point.

That story gives me hope that maybe he does care about me more than the others. I know “love” is off the table. I understand it’s something I’ll never have from him. But I think I’ve made peace with that.

He cares for me. He protected me. He fought for me.

And that’s more than I could have asked for.

Now, if he would stop coddling me, that would be great.

Due to my CIP, the doctor advised me to take it very easy for at least another month, but the man took it like the only thing I’m allowed to do is rise from the bed to sit on a chair. The heaviest thing he’ll allow me to lift is a fucking fork. I love the attention, but I’m fucking fine.

My family, on the other hand, seems to agree with him. Even if they’re fucking furious at the man and may never forgive him for what happened to me. The fact that he almost died seemed to have buttered them up a bit, though.

But I’m fine . . . and I need him.

Stepping over the stones and soft rugs, I reach him just as he opens his eyes; he’s slightly startled by my presence.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper as I ease my sleep shirt over my head and bend over him.

I slide against his body, situating myself under his bent arm as he maneuvers the bow over the strings.

Straddling him gently, I keep my shoulders under his arms and try not to disrupt his song.

The slow melody is too mesmerizing to ruin, the chords played with incredible passion, touching parts of me that ignite at the sounds.

One particular part especially, which has been begging for the man.

I reach between us, find the seam of his loose pajama bottoms, and tug it down until his cock breaks free.

With my head against his chest, listening to his increasing heartbeats melting into the melody he creates with his precious violin, I stroke his length.

He hardens beneath me, soft groans vibrating through his chest as precum coats his broad tip.

Carter’s melody falters but doesn’t break. With his dark eyes locked on me, he follows every shift of my body as I guide him where I want him.

The haunting notes wrap around us—a slow, melancholy tune that feels like it’s being ripped right out of his chest. It vibrates through him, humming in the air. In my body. My strokes along his length match the tempo of his bow, slow and deliberate.

I don’t rush, keeping the pace teasing, watching him fight to maintain control of the song. His fingers tremble slightly on the strings, and a raw edge creeps into the notes as I shift my hips, positioning my core above him.

The head of his cock presses against me, and I lower myself slowly, taking him inch by inch, piercing by piercing, a quiet gasp leaving my lips as he fills me. His bow drags across the strings, the sound vibrating sharply and aching in the air.

“You’re cruel,” he murmurs. But he doesn’t stop playing.

“Not cruel,” I whisper against his ear. My breath brushes the shell as I begin to move, rolling my hips in slow, deliberate circles. “Just making sure you remember I’m still alive. We’re still alive.”

He groans softly, and the sound blends with the violin’s mournful song.

It swells, the notes trembling with each movement of my body, each time I rise and fall back around his length, taking him deeper.

The rhythm of his bow adjusts to match the pace I set, slow and sensual. A wordless conversation between us.

His head tilts back slightly, exposing the strong line of his throat as he shifts the violin more over his shoulder. His jaw remains tight, as though he’s barely holding himself together. I kiss the curve of his neck, tasting the faint salt of his skin.

“Scarlet,” he rasps, my name rough on his tongue. A plea and a curse all at once.

“Keep playing,” I urge softly, pressing my lips to his pulse.

Arching my back, I let his cock drive deeper, and the music breaks for a split second. A sharp, quivering note slips into the melody before he catches himself.

The violin cries in his hand as my fingers glide over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle, the rapid thrum of his heart beneath my palm.

The tension builds between us, the music like a thread weaving our movements together. Binding us closer with every aching note. His eyes are on me now, his gaze dark and burning, and it sends a shiver down my spine and straight inside my aching core.

When the melody reaches its crescendo, so do I. Raw pleasure tugs at my nerves as I shake against him. He tenses beneath me, muttering soft, dirty curses into the darkness as his cock twitches viciously inside me, filling me to the brim as I dig my nails into his skin and shake through my orgasm.

My breath catches as he sinks further into me, my lips brushing against his chest as his arms wrap around me, violin forgotten.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the quiet hum of our breathing and the fading echo of the music in the air.

But my heart is too full to let this silence reign.

“I love you...” I whisper into the night, against his warm skin.

“Look at me.” His words sound almost sharp.

Reluctantly, I lift my head and meet his gaze.

“Say that again, looking into my eyes this time.”

But my lips tremble, that fear brimming against his intense gaze.

“What are you afraid of, Scarlet?” He tangles his hand in my hair, forcing my focus onto him when I try to look away. “Tell me.”

“You,” I blurt out. “I’m afraid I’ve ripped my heart out of my chest and stuck it in yours to take care of and keep safe when you can’t do the same for me.

When you’ll never feel the same.” The words spill once they start coming out.

“I understand it’s your nature, and for the most part, I made peace with that.

But it’s hard not to wonder if it will affect me eventually.

And if, because of your lack of empathy, you’ll fail to see it. ”

“You’re caught up in semantics and societal standards.

They blind you, Scarlet. Call it as it is.

You think I’m incapable of loving you. I’m not sure what love looks like to you, and even after extensive research, I haven’t fully understood what it means to others.

All I know is that you are mine, heart, body, and soul.

If you are hurt, I feel that pain for you.

I bleed for you. And I will happily cull any soul that dares to hurt you.

Even if that may just be one single tear falling over your cheek. ”

He pauses long enough for me to hear the mad rush of heartbeats behind my ribs.

“I may not know what love is, but it better not be less than this, because you deserve so much more. And I let you in, Scarlet, with a conscious decision that went against all my instincts. You saw me in moments I didn’t want to see myself, and here you are, still.

..afraid I will never care for you as you care for me.

I call you ‘mine,’ but all I’ve done so far is prove that I am yours. ”

By the time he finishes his speech, I’m somehow the breathless one.

“If this is love, Scarlet, then you have it. You have me. All of me. And now that you do, you’ll never be rid of me. Ever. ”

A tear slides down my cheek. I didn’t realize I was crying. But here we are. A man seemingly without emotions, without empathy, stole my breath straight out of my lungs and replaced it with far too many sentiments.

“I love you,” I whisper, my gaze firmly fixed on his.

I was wrong. He’s shown me how he feels, and I’ve been caught in conventions. Carter is mine just as much as I am his.

“Good.” A cocky grin pulls at his lips, making me want to smack him and kiss him all at once. “I thought my darkness was too devoid of stars for you when, in fact, it was just waiting for the brightest of them all to come along and claim the throne. My scarlet queen.”

Heat fills my belly, vibrations resonating straight through my soul, caressing that darkness that exists within me as well.

“I think you love me too, Mr. Pierce.”

“I think I might just.”